


Pretty Noose (Is Pretty Pain)

by trashcangimmick



Series: If It Ain't What You Had Pictured, That Sounds About Right [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pre-entity, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: After painting a mural at the abandoned Mount Ormond resort, Jeff sticks around to party.
Relationships: Jeffrey "Jeff" Johansen/Frank Morrison
Series: If It Ain't What You Had Pictured, That Sounds About Right [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025881
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Pretty Noose (Is Pretty Pain)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s the 90’s and Jeff doesn’t have a lot of language for queer things and has probably never even heard of a trans person. 

The bonfire crackles and pops, chewing through old boards of the abandoned Mount Ormond Resort pulled from long since broken windows. Jeff is pleasantly warm. The beer bottles scattered around him no doubt contributing to keeping the chilly air at bay. It’s snowing outside. The wind trickles in through cracked glass, carrying the breath of winter into the center of the lodge. But Jeff’s coat is thick. The fire is tall. His beard has grown out long enough to protect his chin and cheeks from the elements.

_ “Jerry was a racecar driver. He drove so goddamn fast. Never did win no checkered flags, but he never did come in last.” _

Offbeat, aggressive music blasts from the boombox in the corner. The two girls, Julie and Suzie, are twirling around, grabbing each other’s arms and swinging in some knockoff jitterbug. Suzie’s pink hair whips around, covering her metal-clad smile. Her plaid skirt flutters. Boots clomping on the floorboards. Julie is the perfect counterpoint. Tight jeans, tight leather jacket, tightly cropped hair. 

She’s dressed similarly to frank. They’re about the same size, even. He’s just a little taller. Of course, Julie has an oval, delicate face. Frank’s is rougher. There’s a scar across his nose, a notch in his eyebrow. His square jaw is usually set, clenched tight like his fists. He keeps curling and uncurling them as he watches the girls. 

Joey is slumped over against an old crate on the other side of the fire pit. Fast asleep. Dreadlocks covering his eyes.

It’s not a party. Jeff doesn’t get invited to parties. It was a business transaction. The crumpled bill in Jeff’s pocket and the spray-painted mural on the wall are evidence enough of that. He was surprised when Frank nudged him in the shoulder and told him to stay a while. Have a drink. 

One drink turned out to be several. More than half the twelve pack Frank presented. But Jeff is a big guy. Tall, broad, and well.  _ Husky. _ He’s always been able to hold his booze. He’s been drinking since he was thirteen, like a good Swede should. 

The song changes. He dimly recognizes it as Soundgarden. Rusty Cage. The girls pull closer to each other, starting to waltz. Jeff turns his gaze back towards the fire. The floor is cold beneath him. He’s sitting with his legs stretched out, leaning against what was probably once a coffee table. Turned over to serve as a backrest. Frank is sitting on the remains of an ornate chair. All the legs broken off, but the seat and back still present. It’s somewhat reminiscent of a throne.

Frank is the king up here, after all. Overseer of this little pocket of the world. A nineteen-year-old dropout, that constantly reeks of cigarettes and beer. Bad news. Any parent’s nightmare. So incredibly cool that people gravitate towards him like a black hole.

He never threw Jeff a second glance in school. He’s a regular at the video store where Jeff works most weeknights, but never really makes much small talk. It’s only by chance that Jeff is here. Only because Frank caught a glimpse of his sketch book behind the register and realized Jeff might be good for something. Jeff knows he’s not part of the  _ crew. _ He’s not going to get invited back to this sprawling, hidden clubhouse. Still, he feels a little honored. Like he’s been let in on a grand secret. He’ll protect it. Who’d he have to tell, anyway?

“So.” Frank slides a butterfly knife out of his jacket pocket and starts playing with it. Flipping it open, closed, and open again. His hands are wrapped in strips of cloth, like he’s a boxer. Jeff can’t help but wonder if it’s aesthetic or practical. “How long you been doing art?”

“Oh. Uh… I dunno. A few years?”

“You’re good. You should like. Tag or something.”

Jeff can’t imagine sneaking around spray painting in the middle of the night. What if he got caught? He turned eighteen last month. He could get in real trouble. The already short fuses in his house would no doubt explode. He doesn’t really want to imagine what his father would do. Jeff is big. His father is huge.

“Yeah. Maybe.” He grabs for another beer. Pops the top off with his lighter. He takes a long swig.

Frank is staring at him with a strange gleam in his eye. One corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile. “Me and Joey go all the time. You should come with us.”

Jeff blinks. He’s seen the haphazard smiley faces sprayed around town. On the walls of the supermarket and the pizzeria. It always gets washed off or painted over in short order. It’s never a secret who the culprits are, but without any evidence, they don’t get in trouble.

Frank probably wouldn’t care about getting caught anyway. The rumours are that he’s already been to Juvie. That he got caught breaking into cars back in Toronto. Who knows if it’s true. Jeff’s not important enough to have rumours spread about him, but Frank is one of the most interesting people in Ormond. Always talked about when he’s not there. The constant source of intrigue and ire.

People are afraid of Jeff because he’s big and quiet. He’s never hurt anyone. He wouldn’t dream of it. But he  _ could _ .

People are afraid of Frank because he’s volatile. Angry. He has a demonstrated history of violence. His first week in school he got into a fight with George Horcely, the previous Bad Boy of Ormond High. Despite being a full head shorter, and probably forty pounds lighter, Frank broke George’s nose and several of his ribs. The message rang loud and clear. Fuck with Frank Morrison at your own peril.

“That would uh--that would be cool, I guess.” Jeff sputters out after he realizes he’s just been staring silently for a little too long.

Frank nods. He pulls out a silver cigarette case, using the hand not occupied with the knife. He pops it open and pulls out a joint. It’s such a smooth action. He picks it up, places it between his lips and lights it one-handed. After taking a few puffs, he leans over, offering it to Jeff.

Jeff has never smoked weed. He wouldn’t know where to buy it. He drinks plenty. He’s been able to buy beer since he was fifteen. He’d just hitch a ride or drive to the next town over. He never got carded. He’s looked like a grown man since the ninth grade. 

He’s not going to refuse Frank Morrison. Just because the mood is friendly now, he understands that it could turn at any second. Besides. It’s not like weed will hurt him. It’s not like Jeff’s against the idea. 

He takes the joint between two fingers. He brings it to his lips and inhales carefully. The smoke is thick and skunky. He holds it in for just a few seconds before the urge to cough overwhelms him. Frank laughs. It’s a little harsh but not exactly mean.

“Damn, pink lung. You OK over there?”

“Yeah.” Jeff chokes out. He hands the joint back and takes a liberal sip of beer.

Frank takes a few puffs and hands it back. They continue on like that and by round three, Jeff’s feeling very heavy. Fuzzy. It seems like the world has slowed down. It’s pleasant. 

He drinks. The music plays. The girls are gone. He’s not sure where. There’s a faint giggling from somewhere upstairs. He wonders what sort of furniture is leftover in this place. Beds? A bed would be real nice. Jeff should go home. But it’s a Friday. His parents might not even notice that he’s gone.

Frank stubbs out the joint. Then he’s shifting off the chair. He crawls over to where Jeff’s sitting, settles down right beside him on pretense of reaching for a beer. Jeff isn’t sure what to make of it. He just accepts it. Even when Frank leans against him, presses their thighs together, Jeff doesn’t move. His breath catches and his heart thuds so loud it must be audible.

“So.” Frank’s voice drops a little lower. Scratchy, like he’s pitching it on purpose. He has a pretty high voice to begin with. But this new midrange is strangely hypnotic. “You’re a big guy, huh, Jeffy?”

“I mean. Yeah.”

“Big hands. Big feet. You know what they say.” 

Jeff can feel his face getting warmer. He’s thankful for the coarse hair that covers his cheeks. At least it hides a flush. He doesn’t dare look at Frank. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t understand.

There’s a hand on his thigh. Frank has kind of small hands. Or rather, they’re narrow. His fingers are long, but his palms seem almost delicate.

“You big all over, bud?”

“Um. What?” Jeff knows he’s being stupid. But Frank can’t mean what it seems like he means. 

And then Frank’s swinging his leg over Jeff’s thighs. Sitting in his lap. He presses close, they’re almost nose to nose. He grabs onto the lapels of Jeff’s jacket. He’s smiling. Eyes half-lidded.

“Do you got a big  _ cock?” _ He almost sounds snide. Like it’s a joke. Is he teasing? Is he going to pull away abruptly and laugh about this later with all his friends?

“W-why?” Jeff kind of wants to push him away. Kind of wants this moment to end. He kind of really wants it to continue the way it seems to be headed. 

“I like big.” Frank licks his lips. “Joey’s spoiled me. But he’s passed out right now. So.”

He leans in, almost closing the distance. Jeff can feel the breath on his lips. Frank’s grip on his jacket tightens. He rolls his hips, grinding against the curve of Jeff’s belly.

“Won’t he--like--wake up?” Jeff barely gets the sentence out. Looking pointedly in the direction of Joey’s slumped form. 

“Who cares if he does? He likes to watch. C’mon. You down?” 

The combination of excitement and abject fear is a lot to cope with. Jeff’s never even kissed anybody. What if he’s bad at it? Does he want to admit that sort of vulnerability? Does he want his first to be  _ Frank Morrison? _ Nevermind that Frank is a guy. And Jeff is a guy. And like, that doesn’t exactly bother Jeff. But he kinda tries not to think about that sort of stuff too much because it makes him anxious. He likes girls. Girls are pretty. Guys are… they grab at something deep and his chest and yank on it. They make him feel hot and dizzy. 

Jeff is hard, straining against his jeans. He can’t tell if Frank is hard too. He must be getting there if he’s asking for this. 

Talking seems a bit beyond Jeff’s grasp at this point. So he just nods. Hesitant. But it’s enough. Frank dives in. Their lips smear together. It’s messy. Rough. Frank bites. Sucks on Jeff’s lower lip. Shoves his tongue into Jeff’s mouth. It’s domineering. Almost violent. Jeft grabs at Frank’s ass just for something to hold onto. Frank groans. He fists a hand in Jeff’s long dark hair. He pulls hard enough for it to sting.

Frank tastes like smoke and beer. He smells like campfire and his leather jacket. Underneath, there’s the lingering scent of sweat, and musk, and something almost sweet that Jeff can’t place. 

When the kiss breaks, Frank dips down to nip at Jeff’s neck. He digs his teeth in. Probably hard enough to bruise. Jeff gasps, but doesn’t try to make it stop. He lets Frank bite, and suck, and mark. It hurts. It feels good. Maybe Jeff wants the evidence that someone thought he was worth the time. For a brief, fleeting moment, someone wanted him.

Frank shoves his hands under Jeff’s jacket, grabbing, squeezing. He traces down Jeff’s sides. Ends up grabbing at his belt. Frank fumbles a bit unbuckling it. Jeff’s about to hyperventilate when Frank finally gets it open. Pops the button of Jeff’s jeans and pulls down the zipper. He reaches into Jeff’s boxers and pulls his dick out.

_ “Fuck,” _ Frank groans. He curls his palm around Jeff’s dick. He strokes the length of it, mouth half open. Eyes hazy with what might be lust.

Jeff doesn’t think too much of himself, but he is above average in one department. Frank is right. Big hands. Big feet. Jeff is packing heat. Frank is obviously excited about it. Eager for it. Does that--does that mean it’s going inside of Frank in some capacity? It’s odd to think that someone who’s so adamant about being the Alpha male of a given situation would want that. 

Before Jeff can even think about verbalizing the question, Frank pulls back. It’s abrupt. Jeff wonders if he’s done something wrong. But then Frank is kicking off his boots. He strips, unceremoniously, from the waist down, keeping his Jacket and hoodie zipped. By the time Frank kicks off his jeans and boxers, Jeff is faced with a whole new layer to the situation.

Frank does not have a dick.

Instead, Jeff is looking at a neatly-trimmed triangle of dark curly hair, and glistening, pink folds of skin. Jeff steals gas station magazines, like any red-blooded teenager. He’s seen the airbrushed, shaved cunts of porn. He’s never seen a pussy in person. He kind of wants to taste it.

Frank doesn’t even give him the chance to reach out and touch. He’s back in Jeff’s lap, legs spread wide. He braces one hand on Jeff’s shoulder. Lines up his cock with the other. He teases the head of Jeff’s dick over his slick pussy lips. Nudging him against a hard little bump. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” Frank whispers. 

Jeff’s so high, and so drunk, and so horny, and so scared, he can’t even begin to organize his thoughts about the current situation. Maybe that’s for the best.

Frank sinks down, slow and sinful. The tight, wet heat is overwhelming. So much better than anything Jeff’s ever felt. He grits his teeth. Grabs onto Frank’s hips tight to keep him from moving. Jeff doesn’t want to lose it immediately. Frank seems to understand. He goes back to ravaging Jeff’s neck.

“Feel so fucking good,” Frank breathes. “God. You’ve got such a fat dick. You’re so hot.”

The words send zings of electricity up Jeff’s spine. It’s just dirty talk. Frank probably doesn’t mean it. Jeff isn’t hot. He’s hairy, overweight, and awkward. He’s just a big, lumbering, lug of a guy. He looks like a construction worker, or a logger, that spends too much time at the bar after work.

But then Jeff loosens his grip a little. Frank starts to move. He rocks slowly. Rubbing up against Jeff’s gut as he does. He shudders. Both hands clutching at Jeff’s shoulders now. The sensation is enough to have Jeff panting. He’s lost in it. Lost in the perfect clutch of Frank’s body. 

“Always thought you’d be good.” Frank murmurs. He starts to gather a little speed. Lifting himself further up before sliding back down, taking Jeff’s whole cock. He’s panting. Flushed. He’s making direct eye contact and it’s a lot to handle.

Always thought? As in he’s thought about this before? It’s a crazy idea. But then again, Frank seems pretty enthusiastic about this whole thing. He initiated it. Maybe… maybe he invited Jeff up here with this in mind from the beginning?

Frank goes in for another kiss. It’s awkward. All tongue, and teeth, and spit, while he keeps moving, bouncing on Jeff’s dick. Jeff is already surfing the edge. Twisting with the sort of pleasure he only tastes when he’s been working himself up without finishing until he can’t stand it anymore. It hasn’t been very long. He knows that. He wants to make it good. He wants to get Frank off.

Turns out, he doesn’t need to be so worried about that. Frank presses closer. Fucks himself a little harder. Then he’s moaning, loud and broken. It echoes off the walls of the large, mostly empty room. His muscles snap around Jeff’s dick, pulsing rhythmically. Jeff’s eyes shut. He breathes harsh through his nose, trying to hold on.

“Did you--was that--?” Jeff grits the words out.

“Fuck yeah it was.” Frank growls. He hasn’t stopped moving. In fact, he’s still picking up speed. 

The lewd slap of skin is even louder than their breathing. Frank is making all sorts of noises now. Whining and panting. His legs are trembling. His eyes are wild. He leans back and shoves a hand in between them, playing with himself. Then he’s squeezing around Jeff’s dick again. Maybe even harder than the first time. Jeff has to grab him to make him stop moving for a minute. It’s blissful torture. Just feeling Frank shudder and tighten.

“Want you on top.” Frank grabs Jeff’s hair again. Pulls it. He kisses rough and desperate. “Want you to fuck me with all you got, big boy.”

Before Jeff can register the request--command--Frank lifts off him. He lies on his back, on one of the blankets spread out next to the fire. He’s beautiful. Harsh features highlighted by the flickering flame, lips swollen, face flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat. The artery under his neck tattoo pulses. Jeff wants to lick it. So he does.

He settles on top of Frank, mindful to support himself on his elbows and knees. He’s not sure if his full weight would crush Frank uncomfortably. He doesn’t want to find out. He lines himself up and presses in. He’s not sure exactly what to do. If he’s doing it right. Before, Frank was in control, taking what he wanted. So Jeff is hesitant at first. He slides in slowly, withdraws, presses in again, trying to find a rhythm. Frank wraps his legs around Jeff’s waist, pulling him deeper.

“C’mon.” Frank grunts. “Fuck me.”

Jeff snaps his hips deeper. Tries to put more force behind it. Frank moans. He pulls Jeff into another sloppy kiss. So it must be closer to what he wants. Jeff repeats the motion. Deep. Hard. He’s a little worried about the way it jolts Frank’s body. But Frank seems to like it. Mewling, clutching at Jeff’s shoulders, his hair, anything he can reach.

‘“Faster.” Frank’s voice is barely a cracked whisper. “Want you to come in me.”

The words alone are almost enough to send Jeff off the edge. He can feel himself losing control. He pumps into Frank like a wild thing. The momentum carries him forward. His considerable mass lends a lot of power to each thrust. Frank’s whole body jerks. He’s clenching around Jeff’s dick again, and that’s it. Jeff groans and he lets go. He peaks so hard he stops breathing. 

They stay like that for a moment. Still. Lost to time. Just breathing together. Intertwined in the most intimate way possible. 

Then Frank grins. He pats Jeff’s prickly cheek.

“Not bad there, Jeffy.” He giggles. 

“Uh, thanks. Um. You too.”

“Oh, I know I’ve got a great pussy. Joey’s had half the cunt at Ormond High and he’s confirmed I’m the best.” 

Jeff doesn’t really know how to take that. So he sits back. He tucks himself away and zips up his jeans. He can see his jizz starting to trickle out of Frank. It makes his cock twitch. He can’t get hard again that fast, but jesus. 

Frank doesn’t sit up. Instead he grabs for a blanket and drapes it over himself. He stares expectantly at Jeff.

“What? You’re not even gonna cuddle me?”

Huh. Frank really doesn’t seem like the cuddling type. Then again, Jeff’s experienced a lot of surprising things today. Why not?

He settles down on the blanket next to Frank. He lies on his side. Frank snuggles up against him, back against Jeff’s stomach. Jeff drapes an arm around Frank’s waist. 

“Also, I was serious.” Frank yawns. “If you tell anyone I’ve got a cunt, I’ll murder you.”

“I won’t. But uh… can I ask a question?”

“If you’re careful.” Frank stiffens a bit. 

“Do you like. Have boobs and everything, too?”

“You’ll never see them. Or touch them. Besides. They’re smaller than yours, fatass. And we’re both men. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good boy. Maybe next time you and Joey can spitroast me. Or hell. Julie might let you take a crack at her if I tell her it’s worth it.”

Jeff should probably be scandalized at the suggestion. It’s not exactly surprising that Frank sleeps with all his friends, but casually dragging Jeff into it is a big assumption. Really, though, all Jeff hears is  _ next time.  _

He’d like there to be a next time. He’s probably agree no matter what other configuration of people happened to be there. Being with Frank felt so good. Jeff wants to feel it again more than anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween :D


End file.
